It's This Or Cluedo
by Soapy Water xx
Summary: The many ideas that Sherlock and John have to try and ward off Sherlock's boredom. Features the dreaded Cluedo game and Guess Who? Thanks for looking :)
1. Cluedo

**A.N: Just another idea that I had. Enjoy, thanks for looking! : )**

* * *

'I'm bored.'

Sherlock's favourite sentence had been appearing a lot in the past couple of days. The flow of cases seemed to have come to a halt, and there was nothing to occupy the consulting detective's mind. John had returned from work that evening to find several more bullet holes in the wall than there had been when he'd left.

Sherlock flipped over on the sofa to place his chin on his knees and look at John inquisitively.

'Bored,' he repeated.

'I'm bored of you being bored,' John muttered under his breath, turning the page of his newspaper.

Sherlock sighed and disappeared out of the room. John decided to ignore the sulking detective, turning the page of his newspaper and immersing himself in politics. A moment later, he himself got bored and threw down the paper.

_BANG! _

'Sherlock!' John yelled, standing and rushing across the room to his bedroom. Sherlock was stood in the middle of the floor, holding his Browning in one hand. His lamp was smoking on the ground, blasted to bits.

'Thank you,' John muttered, wrestling the weapon from his friend and disabling it.

'I'm bored,' Sherlock said again.

_Fine, _John thought in defeat. He straightened up and grabbed his military style jacket.

'I'm going out. I'll be back in ten minutes, and then you won't be bored. Until then, sit in your chair and don't break anything,' John commanded. Without waiting for a response, he swung around and disappeared out of 221B.

* * *

Sherlock was sitting perfectly still when John returned, a Sainsbury's bag in one hand. Sherlock looked at John suspiciously, his mind racing for deductions. Finally, he spoke.

'Tea isn't going to interest me,' he said.

'It's not tea,' John replied. He pulled out a brand new Cluedo board set, which was wrapped in cellophane.

'Cluedo?' Sherlock asked. He paused. 'What's Cluedo?'

John sighed. It was going to be a long evening.

* * *

After explaining the many "pointless" - or they were to Sherlock - rules of Cluedo, John set up the board. Sherlock sat on the opposite side of the table to John, his eyes fixated on the board.

He was taking the game very seriously, apparently.

John looked bored with Cluedo, but Sherlock was riveted. He span around the room at odd moments to get different views of the game board, and he'd never looked less board - except when he was on a case, of course.

_Why didn't I think of this sooner? _John wondered to himself.

A few seconds later, the answer came to him.

'Doctor Black did it,' Sherlock announced, looking very pleased with himself.

They were roughly two minutes into the game.

'No, Sherlock,' John replied. 'It's not in the rules,' he insisted.

'Then the rules are wrong,' Sherlock responded, as if it was obvious. Which, to him, it was.

'Sherlock,' John said. 'It wasn't Dr. Brown.'

'It was! Look at his background! Look at his position! It all makes sense - can't you see it?'

John looked at his friend, eyebrows raised.

'Oh you can't! It must be so boring inside your funny little head,' Sherlock commented, almost absentmindedly. 'I win,' Sherlock announced.

'Sherlock, it wasn't Dr. Brown.'

'John, when we're on a real case, do you ever doubt my deductions?' Sherlock demanded.

'Well no, but -'

'How is this different?'

'It's a game!' John exclaimed.

'It's no different,' Sherlock went to sit down on his sofa.

John gave up. At least his friend had been entertained for five minutes; maybe there'd be peace for a few minutes now.

For a moment, John thought he'd succeeded as Sherlock disappeared from the lounge. He sighed in relief and relaxed in his chair, settling back comfortably.

But -

_Bang! Bang! _

__'John!' Sherlock yelled from John's bedroom. 'I'm bored!'

John buried his face in his hands. He couldn't win.

* * *

**Reviews would be appreciated! Thanks again : ) **


	2. Guess Who?

**A.N: Hi again! Thought I'd give this a go, thanks indiagold for the idea! Thanks for reading : ) **

* * *

After the failed attempt at playing Cluedo, John vowed to never play another board game with Sherlock ever again. He was sure that, when Sherlock next became bored, he would have a much better plan ready.

But he wasn't expecting the boredom to come so soon.

It was a Wednesday evening, and John had been at work all day. He decided to stop by the Tescos near Baker Street but avoided the lethal self checkouts that he'd previously fallen out with. John picked up some custard creams and another pack of tea bags before paying and exiting the shop.

John's phone vibrated in his pocket as he left the shop; he sighed and fished the thing from his pocket, glancing at the screen.

_From: Sherlock_

_Message: Milk. -SH_

Allowing himself a sound of complete irritation - which frightened the old woman walking along the pavement beside him - John turned back to buy the damn milk.

When he finally arrived back at 221B, John sank back into his chair and exhaled in relief. He couldn't see Sherlock - but his coat was hung up, so he was probably still in the flat. Sherlock never could resist a chance to use his dramatic flair when he went out.

_Bang! Bang! _

'Damn it all,' John muttered under his breath, before heaving himself up out of his armchair. 'Sherlock!' he yelled, a little sharper than necessary. 'What the bloody hell are you-'

He stopped as he entered his bedroom. Sherlock was sat on the bed - he'd shot a hole in the wall, but the gun had been discarded on the floor. Confused, John looked to see what Sherlock had found to entertain himself.

'What's this?' Sherlock demanded.

In his hands, was a board game. It was new; Harry had passed it on when she decided to move flats. The game was 'Guess Who?' and John hadn't had a chance to give it to a charity shop yet.

'It's a board game,' John said, using the tone that he reserved for Sherlock's childishly curious moments. 'People sometimes play them when they're bored. And sometimes when they're not bored.'

'I'm bored,' Sherlock said.

'I'm not playing Guess Who with you,' John told him. After Cluedo... Well, he'd rather stick his head down the toilet bowl, to be blunt.

'Why?' Sherlock asked, his voice challenging as he quirked an eyebrow.

'Cluedo,' John replied, unwavering. 'I'm not going through that again.'

'John,' Sherlock said. It was almost like a whine, except his voice still maintained a deep tone.

'No, Sherlock.'

Sherlock sighed in irritation and took the game with him as he exited the room. John felt like punching a wall for a moment, before thinking better of it as he disabled his Browning and sat down on his bed.

There was a light clatter from the other room.

'John!' Sherlock yelled. 'I think it's broken.'

'Damn it all,' John muttered to himself, exiting the room and slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Sherlock examined his character card carefully, his eyes skimming the cartoon face. A blue board was sat in front of him on the coffee table. The room seemed tense; like the game was some big competition.

John, looking miserable, had the red board. He also had a character card in one hand, concealing it carefully so that he couldn't deduce what character it was.

'Is it male or female?' John asked.

'Male,' Sherlock replied tightly. John flipped down the cards on his board patiently, each one making a satisfying 'click' against the plastic.

'Your turn,' John commented.

'Is it Sarah?' Sherlock demanded eagerly, apparently convinced that he'd won already.

'Nope,' John replied.

Sherlock looked disappointed; the expression looked wrong on the consulting detective's face.

'But it must be,' he said.

'But it's not,' John replied. He could sense another Cluedo arguement coming on.

'Maria?' Sherlock quipped.

'It's my turn,' John replied. 'Does he have facial hair?'

'No,' Sherlock responded quickly.

John flicked down several more cards, the sound echoing in the quiet.

'Is it Maria?' Sherlock demanded, before John had finished.

'No,' John said, feeling oddly smug.

Sherlock seemed to hiss to himself, clenching his fists. John raised his eyebrows at the consulting detective.

'Does he have glasses?' John asked.

'No,' Sherlock replied grudgingly. 'Is it Andy?' Sherlock continued.

'No,' John said. 'Sherlock, I don't think you've got the idea of the game... You're meant to...'

'But that's boring!' Sherlock interrupted. 'Your turn.'

'Is it Eric?' John asked.

Sherlock froze. The card in his hand crumpled in his fist.

'What?' he asked.

'Is it Eric?' John said again.

Sherlock threw down the card in his hand and stormed out of the room, pausing only to grab his coat on the way out.

'Well that was tedious,' John mused to himself.

* * *

**A.N: Feel free to drop me a review, if you like! Thanks again : ) **

**And any requests, if you have any game ideas for Sherlock and John to play. : ) **


	3. Getting Shot, Guess Who and Deductions

**A.N: Another one! I really enjoyed this one, please don't pick faults with my attempted deduction, I tried my best but I'm no Moffat : ) Enjoy, thanks for looking! **

**PS: Thank you to everybody who's reviewed so far! I love hearing what you think - again, any requests would be awesome. **

* * *

The next time Sherlock announced he was bored, it was in rather an odd situation.

John and Sherlock were running for their lives; quite literally, unfortunately. John's army stamina helped him to keep up with Sherlock's brisk running pace, so the two were pretty much neck and neck as they bolted towards the only exit of a twenty storey building: the fire escape.

Long story short; Sherlock had discovered a nest of criminals hiding in central London, and he'd gone to try and confront them himself. Because he'd been bored for two days, and going to threaten a group of dangerous criminals would certainly destroy any remnants of boredom.

Of course, John had figured out Sherlock's plan about five minutes after the consulting detective disappeared, and the two had ended up in a bit of an awkward situation as John tried to talk his way out of trouble, while Sherlock had a gun pressed to the back of his neck.

To cut a very long story short, they had escaped, and now they were running.

'Fire escape, fire escape!' John yelled at nobody as they barrelled towards it. Behind them, John could hear guns being loaded and readied for when the ringleader, as it were, gave word to kill them.

'Getting that, thank you John,' Sherlock replied breathlessly as he barrelled into the handle of the escape. The door flew open, and behind them the bullets were unleashed. The pair just managed to duck behind the door before the onslaught began.

'Run?' John asked, from the other side of the door as Sherlock.

'I'd imagine so!' Sherlock replied, bolting for the stairs. John took the other side of stairs, and the two rushed down at top speed as the armed gang persued them.

'John!' Sherlock shouted over the bullet fire.

'Not now, Sherlock!' John shouted back as they turned a corner and sprinted down a very long corridor.

'Can we play Guess Who again?' Sherlock yelled back.

Before John could reply, another round of bullets was fired at their backs, and Sherlock made a strange hissing sound as they turned the corner and continued running.

'Did they get you?' John demanded as they raced down another two flights of stairs.

'Just a scrape,' Sherlock replied. 'Can we play Guess Who again?' he demanded again as they turned another corner and found the most blissful sight - a lift.

'In, in, get in!' John yelled frantically. The two pushed madly against the call button, hearing the sound of footsteps quickly approaching from behind.

'Oh for god's sakes,' Sherlock muttered, pressing the button one more time. The lift doors opened with a soft ping.

The two practically dove in, and Sherlock hurriedly pressed the button for the ground floor. There was a slight delay, before the doors began to slide closed at snail pace.

The two men pushed against the doors from either side, trying to close them faster as the quickest members of the gang appeared from around the corner. For a moment, everything seemed to grow silent, and then -

The doors closed all of the way, and the lift began to move down jauntily.

'Phew,' Sherlock muttered. John sank down onto the carpet, looked up at his friend.

The two were silent for a moment, before they started laughing nervously. The laughter lasted for a couple of minutes, before John calmed down and said:

'Yes Sherlock, I'll play Guess Who again.'

* * *

Sherlock and John arrived back at Baker Street late that night. Lestrade had insisted that Sherlock was patched up after being sort of shot, and so they hadn't been able to get back to Baker Street as soon as they'd liked.

Mrs Hudson had ordered some Chinese food for them, and the three ate in companionable silence. It was a nice moment, familiar. Sherlock's eyes darted around Mrs. Hudson's living room at top speed, analysing everything faster than John could blink.

After a few moments, the consulting detective spoke up.

'John,' he said. 'I'm bored.'

'How can you possibly be bored after everything that happened today?' John replied.

Sherlock shrugged, finished the prawn cracker he'd been chewing.

'Back shortly,' Sherlock said. He stood up and disappeared.

John connected the dots in an instant, and he buried his face in his hands.

'Are you alright, dear?' Mrs Hudson asked. 'Long day?'

'No,' John murmured. 'Watch.'

A moment later, Sherlock raced back into the room.

In one hand, the Guess Who board gleamed in the dim lighting.

Sherlock grinned and set the box down on the table. John sighed but smiled slightly; he'd promised, after all.

* * *

The following day was a Sunday, and so John slept in. He got up at eleven and made a quick brunch. Sherlock had gone somewhere, apparently; he often disappeared at random points during the week, and never told John where he'd been.

The previous night, Sherlock and John had played Guess Who three times, and John had won every single time. Sherlock thought that it was a stupid game, and said so many times, though he continued to rematch John every time he lost. At a quarter to midnight, John went to bed and locked his door so that Sherlock wouldn't appear in the middle of the night, demanding another game of Guess Who.

Just as John was finishing his spaghetti loops, the door of 221B opened, and a very triumphant looking Sherlock entered.

'You alright?' John asked. 'Where've you been?'

'Out!' Sherlock replied. 'Thrashing Mrs Hudson at Guess Who!' he added proudly.

John nodded. 'Of course you have.'

'I'll prove it,' Sherlock said, oozing pride. He produced the game boards from nowhere, and chose his own card carefully. John skeptically picked up a different card and pocketed it, making sure that Sherlock wouldn't be able to see it.

'Is it male or female?' Sherlock demanded, before John had even set up his own board.

'Male,' he replied.

'Glasses?' Sherlock asked.

'Is yours male or female?' John asked, ignoring Sherlock's previous question.

'Female,' Sherlock responded. 'Answer mine.'

'Yes, glasses,' John said.

'It's Stephen,' Sherlock said at once. John looked quietly surprised, but he wasn't too stunned. Sherlock couldn't bear to be anything other than the best at things, so it figured that he would have studied the game board for hours.

'Well done,' John said.

'Yes!' Sherlock shouted enthusiastically. He jumped into the air and then settled back on his sofa, gazing up at the ceiling.

John looked warily at his friend; he had a sickening feeling that he knew what was coming.

'I'm bored,' Sherlock said.

* * *

It was the middle of the afternoon when John had a brainwave about how he was going to entertain Sherlock. He was out in Tescos buying milk, more tea, and some eggs, oddly enough. John grabbed a packet of custard creams on his way to the checkout, and then texted Sherlock as he walked down towards Trafalgar Square.

_Meet me at Trafalgar Square in ten. -JW _

The reply was almost instant.

_Better not be boring. -SH _

John walked back up Whitehall, past Downing Street and found himself at Trafalgar Square in seven minutes exactly. He sat down on the edge of the fountain and waited for Sherlock's black billowing coat to appear through the crowds of people.

'What are we doing here?' Sherlock's voice asked from behind him.

'Something that isn't boring,' John replied. 'I thought... Seeing as you find 221B so boring at the moment, you could do some deductions here instead.'

Sherlock's mouth turned up at the corner. He was surprised that John would go to the trouble to find something as complicated as this for him to do.

'What about her?' Sherlock said immediately, spying a businesswoman who was walking past a few metres away. 'She's wearing Designer Shoes, brand new; clearly a gift. Manicured nails, bright red; she likes to make a statement, clearly, but they're chipped - money's tight, she hasn't been able to afford to have them done for a while; a week, probably. Then there's the suit that she's wearing; clearly expensive, probably designer too; difficult to tell from here. But look, it's old and fraying around the sleeves; she picks at the threads when she's nervous, quite a lot too it seems. And it's old, look at the pattern; not quite the style that she'd like; not modern enough to suit her tastes. She's worried about her mother; the shoes were a gift from her -'

'How can you know that?' John demanded. It wasn't quite the game he'd had in mind, but he wasn't going to cut Sherlock off mid deduction.

'Her Mother's a widow; she barely knew her Father. He was part of the navy; look, look! She's wearing a badge promoting the navy; several badges, it's something close to her heart. But he died in battle, probably; left herself and her mother with little to no money; that's why she's short on cash at the moment; she's been donating to the charities that look after those left behind - how do I know it was her Father who died? Look, the shoes John, the shoes are designer, it's rare to find a man who knows designer brands that well, so, conclusion; young woman, difficult life with a job that isn't as well paid as she'd like with a difficult past that she's never gotten over.'

Sherlock finally paused to breathe. John grinned.

'It's fantastic,' he voiced without thinking. 'Sorry.'

'It's... fine,' Sherlock replied with a smirk.

'But... How did you know that she was worried about her Mother?'

Sherlock sighed heavily, impatient with John's apparently slowness. Or, at least, he was being slow in Sherlock's mind.

'Her Mother's a widow, yes? Difficult lifestyle; the daughter's been brought up with limited amounts of money in her life. Now, suddenly, her mother's buying her designer shoes? Makes no sense whatsoever,' Sherlock finished, apparently pleased with himself.

The woman in question disappeared around the corner, out of their lives.

'Okay,' John said. 'What about her?' he pointed at a middle aged woman who was just turning away from them, disappearing around the corner. 'As much as you can get in about two seconds; go.'

Sherlock sucked in a deep breath, enjoying himself thoroughly.

'Well...'

* * *

**A.N: Thanks for reading! That was my first deduction ever, so please don't pick faults in it, I know it's not perfect. But I'm no Moffat or Gatiss : ) **

**Reviews are greatly appreciated, thanks to everybody who's dropped me a line so far : ) **


	4. Dominoes

**A.N: Sherlock discovers Dominoes :) thanks for the suggestion! Thinking about twister too : ) let me know your thoughts?**

* * *

'John! John, I'm bleeding,' Sherlock yelled.

John sighed heavily from where he laid in his bed. The duvet was pulled up to his chin; he looked around the small room in Baker Street slowly, dreading that he'd have to go and see exactly what Sherlock had done to himself. Normally, he didn't make much of a fuss when he injured himself.

'I'm coming,' John replied. He heaved himself up from the comfort of his own bed and slowly made his way to the living room.

Sherlock was seated on the sofa, clearly not in any pain. In front of him, was a box.

'I thought you said you were hurt?' John asked, sitting down in his armchair.

'Yes, but I'm not,' Sherlock replied. 'If I'd have asked you to explain a game to me, you would have pretended to be asleep.'

John sighed. 'What is it?' he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was sure that living with Sherlock had added about thirty years to his age.

'It's called Domin-os.'

'What?' John asked. He opened his eyes and looked at the small black box on the table.

'Dominoes?' he asked.

'That's what I said,' Sherlock responded, looking almost bored.

'No, you said - never mind. Well,' John began. He opened the box of dominoes and laid them out on the table.

'They've got lions on the back, why have they got lions on the back?' Sherlock demanded, picking up a domino and inspecting it critically.

'It's a pattern,' John replied. 'Sometimes they have patterns.'

'Why?'

John didn't bother answering.

'What are these dots for?' Sherlock demanded, when it became clear that John wasn't going to answer him. 'They're stupid, why do they have dots on?'

'That's the game,' John replied. 'You have to shuffle them first.'

John spread out the dominoes face down on the table, and began to scramble them randomly.

'Now, pick fourteen dominoes,' John told Sherlock. They both picked their tiles, John idly wondering why Sherlock had suddenly become so obsessed with games.

'Right,' John propped his dominoes up in a strategic way so that Sherlock couldn't see them. Sherlock mimicked John's actions, examining his dominoes carefully.

'I've got the double six,' John said. 'So I go first.'

'What's a double six?' Sherlock asked.

'A domino with two sets of six dots,' John held it up to show Sherlock, who nodded.

John set the domino down in the middle of the coffee table. Sherlock looked at it, before picking up one of his dominoes and holding it in his hand. He looked at John inquisitively.

'You've got to find another six to put on the end of that,' John told him. 'The number of dots on one side of one of your dominoes has to match the number of dots on the domino I put down. Make sense?'

'Hmm,' Sherlock said, before placing down a 6:1 domino.

John quickly placed down the double one he had, and the game continued.

Sherlock took it very seriously, as was to be expected. The consulting detective didn't like to be beaten at anything; when they'd played Guess Who, John hadn't realised how determined Sherlock was to be the best at everything, ever.

'Pass,' John said, as he looked at the double five Sherlock had placed down. He looked back to Sherlock, who was frowning.

'Pass,' the consulting detective said, sulking already.

'Count up the number of dots left on the dominoes you've still got,' John said. 'The person with the largest number of dots left wins.'

'Fourteen,' Sherlock said.

'Eighteen,' John replied triumphantly. 'I won. Good game,' he added - but it was too late. Sherlock had disappeared from 221B in another strop.

'I can't win, apparently,' John muttered to himself, collecting up the dominoes and returning them to the pack.

* * *

A.N: Your thoughts? : )


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